Method to Our Madness
by minky-way
Summary: A collection of DMMd drabbles & prompt fills various parings
1. Error Message (AoClear)

**This is for my lovely wifey Painty's birthday, happy birthday my dearie and I hope you like this!**

* * *

There was an explosion, and noodles flew everywhere, landing on the floor, the TV, and most alarmingly of all, Aoba's bare legs, jumping up off the sofa to push them away with much cursing and only succeeding in pouring noodle sauce all over the rug.

"Oh shit!" He exclaimed, red hot pasta finally off his legs leaving only pinkish burn marks behind, suddenly aware there was a noodle sliding down the TV screen, leaving an unpleasant streak over the actors head. Too alarmed at the mess he'd made to even think of the bang that had caused it, he practically ran to the kitchen to get a cloth and something to hopefully remove the noodles from the carpet before it stained.

His mouth dropped wide open as he rounded the doorway, staring in utter horror at the black, singed mark on the ceiling and the pile of destroyed plastic and metal that had been the microwave.

"Aoba-san! Aoba-san!" Clear's voice, and of course it had been Clear, who else could blow up a microwave? Rang through his ears, alarmed and panicky and apologetic all at once.

He tried to stay calm, but his voice was firm and Clear was wringing his fingers anxiously, looking like a child being scolded, which he may as well be. "What did you do?"

"I-I was melting chocolate to put on the cookies for tonight and…" He didn't have to finish his sentence, it was obvious what had happened, the still smoking remains of the microwave were testament to the following events. What Aoba couldn't figure out though, was what exactly had caused it to implode, it had been fine when he'd cooked his noodles in it minutes ago, but then again, Clear was ridiculously prone to disaster. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, trying to stay calm, he didn't really want to upset Clear further after all, distressed as he was at the loss of his microwave.

He stepped closer to the melted wreck that had been a working microwave until seconds ago, poking at the remains with a wooden spoon he found on the side, absently wondering if it was capable of electrocuting him in this state, and deciding not to risk it. The door had apparently flown off, crunching under his food when he accidentally stepped backwards, the smell of burnt chocolate filled the kitchen and it made him feel rather sick. The bowl the chocolate had been in was shattered into two sections, burned black, but it was the shine of silver underneath it that drew his attention, managing to extract it carefully.

His temper took a turn for the worse, and if it had been anyone but Clear he probably would have thrown the spoon at them before asking if they were an actual moron and if they were trying to destroy the entire house. But he knew Clear would just cry, and he always hated that, trying to stay calm as he turned to face him, holding the still hot spoon, melted from the heat, in a tea-towel.

"Clear, did you put a spoon in there too?"

Clear blinked owlishly, pink eyes earnest as he nodded, "I was stirring the chocolate with it so it wouldn't burn."

Of course Clear would answer so innocently that Aoba's anger all but faded away, almost smiling with amusement as he retrieved a strong rubbish bag from the cupboard and carefully deposited the ruins of the microwave into it. Clear immediately jumped in to help, worrying his lip the whole time and pink eyes threatening tears. The bag was dumped outside the back door, to be disposed of properly later, Clear was sniffling by now, believing Aoba's silence to mean he was mad at him.

"I'm sorry Aoba-san! I didn't mean to!" He wailed, tears finally leaking from his eyes and spilling down his white cheeks childishly.

Aoba just sighed, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his white hair with one hand, amazed as always at how fluffy it was. "It's fine, it was an accident, Clear. You can't put metal into a microwave though."

"W-why not?"

Aoba's expression was deadpan as he replied, pulling back to wipe at Clear's wet eyes with his sleeve, forgetting there was noodle residue splashed up it. "Because they explode."

"I didn-"

"I know, you didn't know. It's okay, we can buy a new one, so don't cry okay?"

Clear nodded wetly, trying to smile even though his eyes were still damp and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout, obviously still feeling guilty.

"You're so silly sometimes," he smiled affectionately, pressing a kiss to his boyfriends white hair, suddenly noticing the underlying delicious scent of the robot's baking. "Did you say you were making cookies?"

"Mm, for film night with Noiz-san and Sei-san tonight!" Clear's expression had brightened immediately, sunny smile on his face as Aoba pulled the spare apron off the rack and tied it round himself.

"I'll help." That way hopefully nothing else would explode, burst into flames or otherwise self-destruct. He loved his boyfriend, but living with him was a nightmare sometimes, mentally reminding himself to buy a new microwave and keep an eye on it this time.


	2. Tearjerker (AoClear)

**Prompt: We sat next to each other during a really sad film and now we're sharing tissues silently while we cry at the cinema**

* * *

Why Aoba had thought he'd be able to make it through this movie without dissolving into embarrassing tears, he honestly didn't know, he was just glad he wasn't with anyone he knew who would laugh at him. He could hear sniffling from other movie-goers, and was relieved he wasn't the only one, wiping his eyes on his already saturated sleeve and trying not to outright sob.

There was a nudge in his side, and he turned curiously, at first assuming it was an accident, but the white haired boy next to him just smiled wetly and offered him a packet of tissues, tears running down his face too. He too attempted to smile, probably only managing to look more hysterical, accepting a tissue and nodding his thanks, promptly hiding his face behind it as he gazed at the big screen. The sound of a nose blowing from beside him almost made him jump, but it only reminded him of his own runny nose, promptly following suit and accepting the offer of another tissue.

The film seemed to be nearly over, but it couldn't end like that! They were meant to be together! The tears fell thicker and faster as the main character mourned the loss of their beloved, scenes interchanging with flashbacks of their time together, laughing and joking. Aoba felt like his heart had been torn into tiny pieces and ripped out of his chest by the time the house lights came up, immediately mortified with embarrassment as his wet face became visible, scrubbing at it with a tissue that was basically useless by now.

There was another sniff from the man at his side, tissue wiping at his eyes ineffectually as he just continued to cry, "I didn't think it would be _this_ sad."

"Me neither, that bit where he said he didn't love her any more so her father wouldn't kill him was just awful!"

"And when the horse drowned!" They both made the same noise of horror at this, nodding in agreement at the distressing scene where their crying had started, almost in synch.

"It's the saddest film I've ever seen!" Aoba almost wailed, suddenly aware they were the only two people left in the cinema, everyone else having recovered and left already, the staff stood by the screen keen to start cleaning up. He stood to leave at the same time as the other, pulling on jackets and walking down the stairs side by side.

"I can't stop crying!" The other commented, squinting as they passed through the doors into daylight, eyelashes glittering with shimmering tears. It was almost pretty.

Aoba smiled sympathetically, his eyes had dried up now but his chest still felt tight with sorrow, why had he chosen to watch such a soul destroying film? "You know, they're showing the sequel next week."

"Really?!" The gasp of genuine pleasure that left the other surprised Aoba, taking a literal step back, overwhelmed by his enthusiasm and oh that was so cute. His eyes widened further a second later when the other grabbed his hands, white skin completely flawless where it entrapped his, pink eyes wide and sparkling. "We should go see it!"

His brain wasn't working, crimson blush creeping up his neck to stain his ears and make him feel hot under the collar, he barely even registered his nod until a shrill squeal of joy met his ears. The next thing he knew he was being dragged out of the cinema by the hand, too lost in his constant babbling to think of anything to say but-

"What's your name?"

"I'm Clear!" He grinned, white teeth perfectly straight in his mouth, suddenly noticing the two tiny freckles on his chin.

"I-I'm Aoba."

"It's nice to meet you, Aoba-san!"

"Y-you too…" he managed to stammer, not entirely sure why he didn't mind when their fingers locked as they headed to a coffee shop that apparently did jellyfish lattes, whatever the hell they were.

Well, at least he wasn't crying any more.


	3. Stay Still (MizuSei)

**Prompt Fill- I have been trying to draw you for the past hour but you keep moving could you please stop? You are very handsome by the way**

* * *

It wasn't creepy, was it? He was just sketching him, it wasn't too creepy, right? It was boring in the café with little to do and no other customers, it was just a way to pass the time, maybe he'd even give him the sketch. Keeping it would be creepy, but he wasn't going to. So it was okay. Right?

Creepy or not, Mizuki had an eye for aesthetics, and would often be late to places because he'd see a flower or a particular scene he just had to capture, sometimes on paper if he had enough time, and sometimes on his coil, which had the best camera update money could buy. He often didn't even end up sketching out the images he captured, but he liked knowing he had such beautiful images that he could take things from for his tattooing designs were he to want to.

So when he'd scanned the café and taken in it's only other occupant, if his breath caught in his throat it was just because of his love for aesthetically pleasing things. Or people, it would seem.

His fingers had itched for his camera, but that really would be creepy and he didn't fancy being thrown out and having the photographs subject thinking he was some kind of pervert. So his sketchbook was the next logical choice, digging it out of his bag and hoping the other would stay long enough for him to get at least a basic sketch of him.

The only issue, apart from the potential ruining of his reputation, was that he wouldn't stop moving. Lifting his mug to his lips, turning to look out the window, sharing a few friendly words with the barista's, which, though it gave him an excellent view of the graceful curve of his pale neck, meant he had to pause until he resumed his previous pose.

He was working on his cupid's bow, not quite able to get his lips to look as soft as he'd like, rubbing out what he'd drawn and glancing up again, only to meet the eyes of the boy, who just smiled shyly and went back to his drink. But oh, his eyes were so dark they were almost black, they sucked him in like black holes and he lost his breath for a second, wondering if there was any way he could capture their beauty on paper.

He was almost done, finally happy with the plumpness of the lips on the paper, long eyelashes just about right and shy smile curved just right so it made his cheeks dimple just a little. He just needed to check, to make sure he'd shaped his cheekbones right and made his hair the right length against his jaw. But he wouldn't stop moving and it was beginning to irritate him. Normally he didn't draw people, he drew things, places, flowers and the beach and maybe some intricate design on fabric, not things that moved at will.

He took another drink of his coffee, pencil resting uselessly for now in his fingers, relieved when a barista refilled the other's mug with what looked like black coffee. Hm, he would have him down as more of a latte or hot chocolate kind of person.

But then he was back sitting calmly, looking over the café, eyes lingering on the posters and artwork that hung on the walls, and Mizuki could get back to it again, barely even aware his coffee had gone cold until he took a drink and almost choked in disgust.

He was sketching his shoulders out now, rough lines detailing the sharp bones of his collar and the black straps under his white jumper.

But he wouldn't stop moving, disappearing under the table to return with a bag that he rooted through for a good five minutes in which Mizuki could do nothing but wait in growing irritation. He returned with a book, squirming in his chair until he was seated comfortably, seemingly he was now going to stay still for the foreseeable future.

But of course, Mizuki's luck wasn't that good and the minute pencil met paper he began moving again. He'd never had the most patience, so when an annoyed mutter left his lips he wasn't entirely surprised, he was, however, when it seemed he had been heard.

"E-Excuse me?"

He dropped the pencil, clattering loudly across the table as he winced, eyes blown wide in alarm because shit he just told a total stranger to stop moving, there might even have been an expletive in there too oh fuck.

The dark eyes were wide and slightly wary as they regarded him, book lowered to the table top with delicate fingers and expression questioning.

"I-I… Um. You weren't meant to hear that." He eventually managed to stammer, realizing immediately afterwards that that made him sound a lot creepier than he had intended it to, face growing red with shame at being caught.

The boy cocked his head to one side, hair hanging in a perfect black curtain over his pale skin, and when he stood up Mizuki swore he'd never been more terrified, trying in vain to hide his sketchbook and only succeeding in dropping it

He scrambled to grab it but a quick glance at the person it portrayed made it all too clear that he had already seen it, eyebrows creased in puzzlement, somehow every emotion he displayed seeming soft and gentle despite the fact he'd obviously be freaked out.

"You… drew me?" He asked softly, hands reaching for the sketchpad so he could see it better, Mizuki's cheeks bright pink as he handed it over, feeling like squirming as the dark eyes roamed over it approvingly.

"Yeah, I was kinda bored and um…"

The boy didn't respond to Mizuki's anxious explanations, voice in his head telling him that he'd blown it now, he looked creepy and weird and a little stalkery, he just shook his head, smiling softly.

"It's beautiful," he smiled, handing it back to a now thoroughly panicking bartender.

"You're beautiful," he managed, and oh god the entire place had gone silent, those pink lips damp and parted in surprise, dark hair almost brushing his girlish lashes. Mizuki wanted to jump out of the window just to escape, to curl up into a ball and not come out until the place was empty and the ashamed flush on his neck had faded.

But then he smiled, and everything came back at once, the quiet conversation of the baristas, the noise of steaming milk and a soft exhale of air, almost like a chuckle.

"You're bright red," the boy commented, expression amused but that gentle smile still there and making his legs feel like jelly because it was so warm and almost fond. He felt his face grow even warmer and he was sure the smile he was trying looked more like a grimace and he was amazed he even heard his next comment over the sound of blood pounding in his ears.

"Cute."

"I… um…" His voice trailed off and he couldn't help but smile, a mixture of embarrassed and sheepish because inside his brain was screaming that oh my god the really pretty guy just called him cute. Him! "I was going to give you it when I was done, I wasn't going to keep it! Um, you just kept moving…"

"I didn't know you were drawing me, I would have kept still if I had." This was easily the most uncomfortable conversation Mizuki had ever been part of, but the other boy seemed completely at ease, and remarkably not freaked out. "Isn't it finished?"

"Um, n-no… Not quite, I… Um… I can't get your eyes quite right." The boy reached his hand out to see it again and Mizuki willingly handed it over, watching his eyes flicker over the image that looked rough and nowhere near smooth enough compared to the real thing. He'd missed the tiny freckles around his nose and the small scar on his left cheek, only visible now he was so close, moving to sit in the chair opposite.

"They look right to me," he replied, and they were his eyes, of course he knew how they should look but, when Mizuki took the pad back he frowned at it. No, they were still wrong.

"I don't know they're not… Intense enough." He was too busy being displeased at how they had turned out, looking up to find a shy blush just tinting his cheeks a dusky pink, eyes averted and cheeks dimpling.

"Why don't you fix them then?" He asked, fingers trailing a nonsense pattern into the table before handing him back his lost pencil, pressing it into his fingers with warm, smooth skin.

"I… You don't mind?"

He just shook his head, gesturing for him to start and smiling softly the entire time, something almost amused in his eyes, though not cruel.

* * *

Within the first five minutes he'd dropped the pencil twice, landing on the floor the second time, a selection of less than pretty words leaving his mouth as he smacked his head into the underside of the table. Only the burst of giggles from his model and the adorable way he covered his mouth as Mizuki rubbed his head, feeling like his entire body was bright red, losing control of his limbs, helped him stay sane.

"Sorry, I shouldn't laugh, are you okay?" His words were genuine enough, but his laughter continued throughout and the tattooist felt the pain in his skull receding as his white teeth showed for the first time, lips spread wide in humor. He just nodded, waiting as his laughter died down and chuckling along occasionally, aware he probably looked like a complete bumbling moron.

"I'm making you nervous."

It wasn't a question, and the smile faded from Mizuki's face, replaced with an embarrassed sort of half smile, "um, yeah… A little."

"Why?" That head cock again, hair sliding across his forehead to reveal singly pierced lobes with plain black studs.

"Well…" He couldn't explain why, it was too embarrassing, he felt like a school kid with a crush all over again, clumsy and awkward around them. "I only meant to draw you and maybe give it to you and now you're like right there and you're talking to me and um…"

His smile was small, almost not there, those deep eyes staring at him and making him feel like he was being inspected, "pass me a sheet of paper."

Mizuki did as he was told, he seemed to be doing that a lot today, watching as Sei retrieved his bag from the other table and found a pen, noticing the bartender's eyes on him, urging him to "keep drawing."

He obeyed, adding in the small features, the freckles, the mole on his shoulder and the small scar on his head, now the eyes were close up he could see that they were inky black, he could barely see the pupil they were so dark. They were mesmerizing, and he spent a good ten minutes just sketching them, rubbing out and smudging and trying to make them perfect.

He was still moving, not the best model, own pen scratching lines onto the paper, hidden from the bartenders view with his arm. He had to admit he was curious, finally satisfied with his sketch, cleaning up any messy edges with his eraser and watching the other, noticing the small furrow in between his eyebrows as he concentrated and jumping when he suddenly spoke.

"What's your name?"

"Um..." And why was he incapable of starting a sentence without stammering first? Any of his usual confidence destroyed in his presence. "Mizuki."

"Mizuki, hm, I'm Sei." He seemed to weigh up his name, pleased hum escaping him as he folded up the paper he'd been sketching, writing? On and slid it across the table to him. "Don't look at it now."

He just nodded mutely, carefully tearing the sheet of drawing paper out of his sketchpad, adding his signature to the bottom corner along with the teardrop he always signed his sketches off with, passing it to Sei.

And oh, that was a pretty name. It meant intense, charming, and he certainly seemed to be both, carefully placing the sketch in between the pages of his book and sliding it into his bag.

"Thank you, Mizuki. It was really nice to meet you."

"I-I… Yeah, me too." Oh he could have slapped himself, just sitting there like an idiot as Sei smiled and stood, waving as he headed out of the doorway and into the street beyond. A quick glance around the café showed the barista's looking distinctly amused even as they pretended to not be interested, making him feel even more mortified. He was certain he heard laughter as his head connected with the table, hard, deciding to stay there until he could control himself again.

* * *

It wasn't til he was home, a lot later that day, emptying his pockets before he put a load of washing on and preparing to lounge around his apartment in his boxers watching TV, when he found the paper. He couldn't remember what it was for a minute, unfolding it in mild confusion, stupidly wide smile spreading across his cheeks as he took it in.

Sei had drawn him, with nowhere near as much detail as Mizuki had drawn him, but still. It was a cute, cartoony style, almost a chibi him, with cheeks flushed with embarrassment and his sheepish grin. Then there was another one, of his face, hard and almost comical with concentration, pencil clutched in his chubby hand. But it was the third, and final one that made him raise a hand to his cheek, trying to kill his blush and not succeeding. The drawing of him was hiding it's face behind its hands in embarrassment as a cartoon Sei kissed his cheek, hands tucked behind his back and eyes big and smiley.

And it was speaking, neatly drawn speech bubble leading from it's lips, 'Same place, 10am Tuesday?'

Oh fuck, he was nervous already.

* * *

 **Got a prompt/pairing for me? Leave a review or find me on Tumblr at minky-way**


	4. Give it Back (MizuSly)

**Prompt Fill-** **We have matching backpacks and I think I grabbed your accidentally** **?**

* * *

He never really checked his possessions too thoroughly when the last bell rang and he could finally leave, just grabbing his bag and snapback from their place in the cubby-holes on the Science room wall, and getting out as fast as he could. He checked the front zip pocket for his cigarettes, digging them out and putting one in between his lips before he even reached the outer doors, knowing they'd given up punishing him for bringing contraband to school. Untying his hair from its regulation ponytail and pulling his cap on, feeling more like himself again now his face was partly hidden by the graffiti design.

The second he was outside he lit up, ignoring the signs against smoking on school property and the glares of his fellow school mates, not caring about anything but his need for nicotine, having not been able to have one at lunch because of a stupid detention. He hadn't even hit the kid that hard, they were overreacting.

He kicked at his bag in annoyance, wishing the school didn't have such strict regulations, bags had to be plain black, though apparently he was lucky he'd been allowed his bag at all. It was plainer than the one he'd started the term with, black and patterned with skeleton hands sticking up their middle fingers, that one had lasted two days before it was categorically banned. The replacement was pretty cool though, he guessed, plain black again, with white razor wire across it.

He flipped the lighter in his hand around in boredom, leaning against the wall of the school and watching all the nerds and teachers pets walking past, gleam of blue making him pause.

His lighter had been red. He could have sworn it, and… He took out the packet of cigarettes again, he hadn't had this many, he'd nearly been out this morning. His eyes narrowed and he scowled, unzipping the main section and fuck.

This wasn't his fucking bag.

Which meant some dickhead had his bag and he was not having that, stamping his cigarette out with such vehemence that a passing first year girl squeaked, quickening her steps.

* * *

"You the asshole who has my bag?" He asked not bothering with any niceties as he approached the only other person in the school he knew with the same bag, copying bastard.

"You've got mine too," he commented logically, not looking at all bothered by Sly's rudeness and that was annoying. Still, he un-shouldered it and handed it over, just raising an eyebrow as Sly all but flung his towards him, catching it easily.

There was silence for a moment as Sly searched his bag, making sure nothing was missing, if he'd taken any of the stuff he was meant to be selling he'd be in serious shit with his dealer, but it all seemed to be there.

"Do you get drunk in class often?"

"What?" He snapped back, the last thing he needed was for this asshole to grass him up, he was in enough trouble as it was.

"I may have drank from your water bottle." He looked almost regretful, and Sly snorted in amusement.

"Bit of a shock, I'd imagine?"

"Little bit, it's a good idea though. Would sure help me get through double Math." He laughed, and Sly's glare deepened, was this guy trying to buddy up with him for any particular reason? Or maybe a teacher had put him up to it, he wouldn't be surprised, they were looking for any excuse to kick him out.

But this guy hardly looked like a straight A student, for a start he brought cigarettes to school and smoked them on the grounds, to Sly's knowledge he had always been the only one who did that. Who knew what else this guy was copying from him? His ear piercings were definitely not allowed, far too big to fit the 'one set of plain studs' rule the old men who ran the school had decided was appropriate. Plus his tattoo's… Though he guessed the one on his face couldn't really be hidden in any school, unless he put makeup on it, which thinking about the times he'd seen him before and the unidentifiable tube in his bag, made a lot of sense.

"I didn't know you had tattoos."

"I cover them up, you probably saw the stuff in my bag." Sly just nodded, "keeps me out of trouble, these asses have no sense of individuality."

Sly just scoffed at that, yeah, too fucking right. Then he realized something, there was a cigarette in his hand, one of his cigarettes. "You do realize that's my cigarette."

He just raised an eyebrow, regarding the half burned white tube disinterestedly, taking it out of his mouth and offering it over, "want it back?"

"Are you a complete fucking freak?" He spat, not amused by his attempts at humor.

"Oh relax, grab one of mine, you're nearly out anyway." His smile was more mocking than Sly would like, but he helped himself to the box in the matching bag anyway, taking two and concealing one in his pocket. "I'm Mizuki, by the way."

"Sly," he nodded curtly, not really caring enough to know the other boys name but deciding to share his anyway.

"Oh I know who you are," his voice was indecipherable as he spoke, tone neither impressed nor judgmental. Sly didn't like it.

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Oh, you know, 'Sly Blue beat someone up', 'Sly Blue got caught doing coke in the toilets', 'Sly Blue sucks off people for cigarettes'. That sort of thing," now he sounded almost impressed, turning to face him with a smirk, expectant.

"I did coke in the toilets once, I keep the heavy stuff for weekends now." Truthfully, he only did weed at school now, and normally only on the way there or back, anything harder he did in the safety, or not, of his own home.

"So the rest is true?"

"Yeah, so what? You want me to suck you off or something?" The offer wasn't a joke, it wouldn't be the first time he'd done it at school, although outside would be new to him, but Mizuki just chuckled and shook his head, looking almost disbelieving at how unashamed he was.

"No, thanks."

"Right," he rolled his eyes, of course, he was just messing him around, and he was done being civil now, fellow rebel he may be, but he was not on Sly's level. "Lovely as this was, I have to go get high and set my homework on fire."

"Hey, if you ever need a hand shifting any of that stuff, my Uncle owns a bar, I tattoo there and bar tend on the weekends." Sly's attention was vaguely piqued at this, always looking for somewhere better to sell whatever his dealer gave him, which this week was heroin, always hard to shift to school kids. "You'd get it gone in one night, come over later if you want."

"What's it called?" This could still be a trap, he could be hired by the police to get evidence he dealt, then he'd be thrown in jail and society would be rid of one more problem.

"Black Needle."

He didn't respond, just nodded, taking another drag of Mizuki's cigarette and walking away. He probably wouldn't go but then… Maybe, just this once…

* * *

 **Got a pairing/prompt for me? Leave a review or find me on Tumblr at minky-way**


	5. Not for Human Consumption (MizuSei)

**Prompt Fill- I'm zoning out working on this painting and you just stopped me drinking out of my dirty water cup**

* * *

The art room was quiet when Mizuki pushed the door open, just one student sat in front of a large canvas, paints resting on a small table next to him, messy paintbrushes and a glass of dirty brown water showing he'd been working for some time. He looked up quickly as he entered, offering a small, rather tense smile and immediately returning to his work, but that suited Mizuki just fine, final deadlines were soon and everyone was panicking to get things completed. He was almost ashamed to admit he was no different, laying his large A3 carrying case down on one of the large tables and carefully removing a large piece of high quality paper where his final design lay, only half done and needing so much intricate detail it made him queasy just looking at it. He sighed quietly, aware that he needed to not make much noise, not wanting to distract the other, especially since he got there first, removing his chosen tool, a basic ink pen that he had three more spares of, just in case. His earphones had been in his ears all the way through the hallways leading here, able to have them in sight since school was over and no teachers could confiscate them now. He cranked the volume down a little, took a seat, and began to draw, music sending him into a focused, trance like state as he carefully inked over his meticulously precise pencil lines.

He didn't want to sound big headed, but he knew it would be amazing when it was done, the almost tattoo-like design looked simple from far away, but only up close were the details obvious, the spiraling patterns and delicate curlicues hidden in the main picture. He hadn't been sure about it at first, the guro style design seeming harsh and almost brutal compared to the soft landscaping and delicate portraits of his classmates, but the more work he did on it, the more he was certain of it. He was working on the guts today, tumbling out of the creatures exposed rib-cage and tumbling down the paper to pool in blood comprised of tiny, delicately inked bones within the larger puddle.

He had no idea how long had ticked by when a frustrated sigh sounded from the boy opposite him, raising his head curiously to see him biting the end of his paintbrush, obviously oblivious to the glob of blue on his pale cheek. It was almost funny, seeing him look so damn irritated, if it wasn't for the fact that Mizuki knew exactly how he felt he might even laugh at how out of place the expression was on him.

The boy didn't acknowledge his attention, and after a moment of contemplating his canvas silently, he reached for a smaller, incredibly fine brush, leaning in so close his face disappeared. Mizuki used the time to rest his hand, cramp beginning to set in from how smooth he had to keep his movements, one smudge or slip, and he could ruin the entire thing. It was a lot of pressure, but he'd always worked best under pressure, pitifully unable to work in advance.

His pen ran out only a couple of songs later, and he stood, stretching out cramped legs and looking out of the windows to see it was growing dark already, seemingly he'd been there a good couple of hours, all the blood filled in and just the flower crown needing more work.

He headed to the bin, dumping his pen in it and taking a nosy glance at the other man in the room, his artwork was pretty, a group portrait of people Mizuki assumed were his friends, one with blue hair, one in all red, one who seemed to be a walking Hot Topic advert, a fluffy blue dog and a boy wearing what looked like a lab coat. It was good, really good, and Mizuki wouldn't be surprised if the boy passed with an A.

There was a reference image tacked to the bottom of the easel, and his eyes flickered to it every now and again as he worked, pausing to dab some subtle shading on under the feet of the dog, who's tiny pink tongue lolled out. It was a nice picture, all his friends together like that, and it made Mizuki smile to wonder whether his friends knew how much time and effort he was putting into painting them.

But his smile faded and alarm rapidly set in as the boy reached across the table without looking, hand wrapping around the dirty water glass and raising it as if he was going to drink from it. He didn't even think as he moved forwards, hand overlapping the boy's as he snapped him back to attention, surprised intake of breath filling his ears as he yanked a headphone out.

"You… Might not want to drink that," he grinned, voice amused as he wondered just how lost in his art he was to almost drink this vile liquid, just the look of it made him feel sick.

The boy relinquished his grip on the glass, frowning at it as Mizuki just placed it back on the table with a smile, trying not to bite his lip because his confused expression was rather sweet, bottom lip stuck out and eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh… No, you're right. Sorry!" He ran a hand through his hair, reality coming back to him slowly as he chuckled, looking almost sheepish as he turned to view his savior, blinking rapidly as his eyes came to settle on him. "I was just so focused on getting this done… Thank you, by the way. That would have been… Unpleasant."

"Yeah, I don't think I could have watched that," he smiled, only now seeing his face in its full glory, realizing how very pretty he was in the same moment he realized he didn't want the conversation to end. "So, do you always come here after school to do work?"

There was a soft, almost shy smile and he nodded, "mm, most nights."

* * *

If Mizuki's face became a permanent fixture in the art room even after the deadline was complete, neither mentioned it, he was just focusing on his art after all, and if he deemed Sei worthy of conversation, that was his business.

Though Sei made it his own business only a couple of months later, asking almost demurely if he would mind being his model, saying he needed more portrait practice. Mizuki, always keen for an opportunity to watch Sei and learn more about him, agreed instantly. Somewhere between the extended eye contact and the silence between them, something clicked, and when Sei touched his jaw to re-position his face for the hundredth time, and kissed him, Mizuki didn't stop him.

* * *

Leave me a prompt on tumblr at- minky-way


	6. Fool Proof, or Not (MizuSei)

**Prompt Fill- I thought 'accidentally' bumping into you would make for a cute introduction but I guess I was overzealous because you fell and now you're holding your wrist and I'm alternating between "Sorry!" and "Can I drive you to the hospital?"**

* * *

It would be cute, really cute, like in the movies. He'd bump into him accidentally on purpose, he'd maybe drop the folders he was always carrying, then he'd help to pick them up, their hands would touch, sparks would fly and it would blossom from there.

His plan was fool proof, though he should have considered the fact that he was something more than a mere fool, he was a love-struck, mildly obsessed, idiotic, hormonal teenager, and that was never a good combination.

But there he was, by himself and pretty head bowed down as he navigated the hallway, emptying around him as people headed to lunch while he scurried in the opposite direction, to the library probably. That was where he always went, not that Mizuki had been watching him or anything, just… Observing from afar in a non stalkerish manner.

Now was the perfect moment, walking towards him almost nervously and feigning a shove to the side by somebody else, some tall football-team looking type, bumping into the dark haired beauty and oh _fuck_ -

His feet stumbled and he basically crashed into him, guy at his side actually smacking into his arm and sending the object of his affections crashing to the ground in a messy pile of limbs and oh god did he just hear something break? He knelt down beside him immediately, panicking because oh fuck this had really not gone how he had imagined it a million times over as he lay in bed at night. Closer up he could hear the boy's unsteady hitching breaths, like he was in pain.

"Oh my god I am _so_ sorry I didn't mean to bump into you! Are, are you okay?" The first half of his sentence was not fully a lie, he hadn't meant to collide with him that hard after all, he'd been going for a gentle bump, not a clothesline.

The other didn't answer for a second and Mizuki suddenly noticed he was clutching his wrist, holding it into his chest and breath coming almost in sobs as a groan left him.

"I… I think I broke my wrist," he spoke, and his voice was everything Mizuki had imagined, soft and gentle but oh it was tinged with pain and this hadn't been his intention, he hadn't meant to hurt him.

This was all going wrong and he didn't know what to do, "fuck. I mean, shit, do… Do you think you can stand? I need to get you to the nurse."

"I… I think so," he nodded, accepting Mizuki's grip on his non-injured hand, letting himself be pulled up and he was so light, even more so than he looked, hissing as his hopefully just sprained wrist jolted nastily.

"Okay, come on, we need to get you fixed up." He knelt, scooping his scattered papers and folders up messily into one arm and resting the other on his shoulder, leading him down the hallways to the nurse and trying to ignore the sobs he could hear.

* * *

"Mizuki? Been a while since I've seen you, everything okay?" The Nurse asked, smiling up at him, friendly enough, having seen him plenty of times before after he got involved in minor fights and came to her with scrapes and bruises.

"It's not me today, I um, bumped into him and he says he thinks his wrist is broken," his words came out in a messy, almost scared jumble because not only had he fucked up his excellent strategy, but also any chance of even being friends with the other, let alone something more.

She blinked in confusion, cornflower blue eyes milky and widening in realization as Sei poked his head out from behind Mizuki, who all but obscured his small frame, standing up immediately to lead him to a bed.

"Oh dear Sei, you do get yourself into some trouble, hm?" Her voice was kindly and almost fond, as if she knew him well, helping him onto the bed and bustling around, collecting what looked like painkillers and a glass of water.

"It was my fault," Mizuki spoke up, feeling almost like he was intruding, not knowing what to do with himself but knowing leaving would make things even worse, especially since he still had to properly apologize for his idiotic actions. "I bumped into him and he fell over."

"It's not your fault," Sei spoke, and his voice was calmer, placing the white pills on his tongue and accepting the water, swallowing thickly and Adams apple bobbing in his pale throat.

"He's right, you know," the Nurse continued, carefully unzipping Sei's hooded jacket and beginning to slide the sleeve off, stopping every time Sei's breath hitched or he whined. The jacket was far too big, sleeves slipping down easily and revealing his slim arms, littered with red scars and healing scratches, a couple with thick black stitches holding them together.

Oh, Mizuki should not be here right now, shouldn't be seeing something so private, something he was obviously ashamed of as he lowered his head, letting the nurse examine his wrist carefully.

"With your bone density I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier," she muttered, and Mizuki's brow furrowed, wondering if maybe he had some medical condition that made him more susceptible to broken bones, it sure sounded that way. "But luckily for you, it's just a nasty sprain."

"I don't feel too lucky," Sei remarked, but his voice wavered with an attempt at laughter, smiling at the Nurse as she just patted his head affectionately.

"I'll go grab a support splint and some ice, It should heal up okay but I imagine it will bruise badly, and it's already swelling." She gave them another nod, hand lingering on Sei's knee a second longer, squeezing, before she strode through the curtains and disappeared.

It fell silent, and Mizuki felt sick, it might only be a sprain, but he still felt absolutely horrible about it, because now not only had he hurt him, but he knew more about him than was appropriate given they were total strangers.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, and then you were just there. I didn't mean to get you hurt or-"

"I know you did it on purpose," Sei spoke quietly, words carrying no emotion and Mizuki's breath pausing in his throat because yep, he would definitely hate him now. "I've seen you a lot, you come to the library and pretend to read, and you act like you're not looking whenever I look at you."

"I… I'm not a stalker."

Well wasn't that just the kind of thing a stalker would say? He realized it sounded bad the moment he said it, but Sei just huffed a laugh, moving a finger to delicately stroke along his red, swelling wrist, feeling the hot skin and biting his lip.

"I never said you were, but maybe you could have just said hello instead of walking into me? That stuff only works in films." His expression was amused but somewhat lecturing as he met Mizuki's eyes, saying he knew exactly what his plan had been all along, like he could see straight through him.

"I've realized that now," he spoke, huffing a humorless laugh. "I really am sorry though, I only meant to bump you… I… I thought it would be cute."

Sei shrugged a shoulder, "probably would have been if it worked."

"If what worked?" The nurse asked, eyebrow raised as if she'd been listening this whole time, and for all they knew she could be, she had been weirdly quiet after all, and had been gone too long to just be getting two things. She accepted Sei's shake of the head and quiet dismissal though, handing him a towel-wrapped ice-pack and instructing him to hold it onto his wrist. "Keeping secrets from me, hm, Sei?"

Her tone was joking and the boy, Sei, and what a fitting name for someone with such intense eyes, smiled, dimples forming in his hollow cheeks.

"Are you going to stay with him?" She asked, and what could Mizuki do but nod yes, he wasn't going to leave him now he'd injured him, and especially not after he'd expressed no ill feeling at his very sinister behavior lately. "Alright, well I'll come back in half an hour to see how the swellings gone down, but you know where to find me."

"Thank you," their voices rang out in union, one deep with gratitude and still underlying tones of guilt, the other soft and warm.

* * *

"I swear I heard something break…" Mizuki muttered, anything to break the silence, he could feel Sei's eyes on him and they made him flush pink, not entirely unpleasantly.

"Probably just my folder or something, check for me?" His tone was dismissive, but Mizuki knew he'd feel bad even if it was just a folder he'd broken.

He sorted through the untidy pile carefully, wincing as he straightened crumpled sheets of doodles and neat notes written in pretty, twirly ink. The folder seemed to be okay, he slid notes and sheets back into what seemed like the appropriate poly-pockets, amazed at the difference between Sei's folder and his own disheveled excuse for organisation. Then came the pencil case, black and patterned with white skulls, he could tell before he even opened it that the contents were utterly destroyed, presumably Sei himself, or one of his books had fallen directly onto it.

"Good news or bad news?"

"Good news."

"Your folder is okay, bad news? Your pencils are all broken and I think a pen exploded…" he held up a blue stained hand sheepishly, only remembering at the last minute not to run his fingers through his hair as he did when he was nervous, not unless he wanted some blue streaks anyway…

Sei tutted softly, lips turning down into a frown, "damn, I just got those colors…"

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. You didn't mean to bump me that hard, and it's only a sprain, it'll heal, um…"

He realised he was being asked for his name, albeit indirectly, flushing pink for some stupid reason, "oh, Mizuki."

"I'll be fine, Mizuki. Thanks for waiting with me."

Either this boy was too perfect to be real, or he'd hit his head and come over with some sort of concussion that made him more reasonable than anyone else would be in this situation.

"It's okay. Will you be alright getting home and stuff?"

Sei looked almost surprised at first, then it softened into a smile Mizuki didn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing, one he was sure he'd seen over a book in the library, small and warm. "I'll just ring my brother."

Mizuki blanched, because as reasonable as Sei was being (bizarrely so, in his opinion), his brother might not be as accepting that it was an accident.

Sei seemed to sense his nervousness though, smiling in amusement, "don't worry, I'll tell him I slipped."

"You know… Most people would be a little angry."

Sei glanced at him for a second, as if appraising his words, "well it's like Nurse Saiko said, I have really delicate bones, so I'm just lucky I didn't break anything."

Mizuki didn't know what to reply to that, so he just hummed softly and nodded, trying to get his heart to calm down because Sei didn't hate him and was still talking to him. That was something right?

* * *

He didn't hide behind a locker on Monday, didn't stalk him to the library at lunch or inquire as to the state of his arm, he just slipped something into his desk drawer and went about his day as normal. So he didn't see the bright, surprised smile as Sei reached into his desk for his textbook and instead found a package of high quality, brand new coloring pencils and a set of equally expensive pens, along with a note.

'If these aren't apology enough, how about coffee some time? 07638408310. M.'

Well he'd been more than pleased with the gifts, but something in him turned petty, because his sprained wrist _was_ a lot of bother, and he did like coffee. And cute, stammering boys.


End file.
